


contact high and summertime nights

by MistakeMakingInProgress



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Barebacking, Biting, Edward Elric Swears, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Painplay, Mildly Dubious Consent, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Outdoor Sex, POV Third Person, Post-Canon, Predator/Prey, Rare Pairings, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Wet Dream, if there was a tag for inappropriate shield use i promise you it would be stamped all over this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23243188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistakeMakingInProgress/pseuds/MistakeMakingInProgress
Summary: Running was something he was very good at, he reflected; he did a lot of it.(When could he ever truly outrun him?)
Relationships: Edward Elric/Greed
Comments: 1
Kudos: 52





	contact high and summertime nights

**Author's Note:**

> am i late to the party? yes but my enthusiasm for rarepairs will always fuel me. title inspired by glass animal's Your Love because it ~*works*~ and ive maybe had it on repeat while proofreading this. im a writer not a namer of stuff in my defense  
> ed's pov, perhaps, is just the chariot for me to have bad language generously poured all over the place, but i imagine someone might get a kick out of it

Running was something he was very good at, he reflected; he did a lot of it, either offensively or as a method of what he liked to call 'strategically retreating.' He fought a lot, yes, but there was an awful lot of running away from things these days. These days, meaning this exact moment. He'd kill just for a moment of fucking peace and quiet around here.

Edward lost track of his shirt a while ago, he thinks, but the exact moment is lost to the adrenaline of fleeing. The sting of rushing air was piss poor in giving him any small mercies. A pleasant chill on a warm evening doesn't help anyone run faster. Or farther, for that matter. He should stop thinking about what the wind can and cannot do, probably.

He stumbled to a stop with a noiseless wheeze, collapsing at the edge of.. he didn't actually know what it was. Ed didn't recognize the stone circle in front of him, the presumable alchemy circle eroded and shoddy. Presumable, because there was so much cracking and grime nestled into the groves, he couldn't make heads or tails of what it was for in a brief assessment. His fascination was short lived as he very quickly remembered why he found it in the first place.

Ed flipped around and scanned the trees, body going rigid as he spied what he'd hoped to of even slightly outran. His awkward crab walk ass-scooting wasn't at all dignified, but his half torn pants and bare chest had dug his grave long ago. The faint scratches on his body sung with the thrum of blood still pounding at light speed, and his heart only quickened as he watched his predator slowly, calmly emerge from the dense trees. There didn't seem to be a moon hanging in the night sky—he didn't dare look away for confirmation—yet light from _somewhere_ gave the shield a dim glow, adding just a little more emphasis to how utterly fucked Ed was. Greed's wicked grin gleamed almost as much as his eyes. Almost. He'd scrambled to the middle of the foundation as the homunculus advanced confidently—he was always fuckin' confident, the prick—and the passing notion of sacrificial lambs streaked by between his mantra of internal curses. And external, which while it wasn't the smartest move to waste precious air he still was trying to get back, it was damn therapeutic so he'd sacrifice some wits if he got to keep chanting like a drunken sailor.

He tried in vain to scramble to his feet, to put distance back between them (when could he even truly outrun him?) only to cry out as his back met the icy stone beneath him with a fierce note. Whether he'd yelled out of surprise, or because of how deep in his soul he had felt the pounce and _growl_ that came with it, he tried not to focus on. In fact, it was hard to focus on anything except the peril of being crushed underneath his pursuer.

(Was peril the right word, he briefly thought, or was that just the first convenient label to his sentiment? Maybe a mix of both, if he had the spare brainpower to analyze it. Hint: he did not.)

He knew Greed was painfully aware of every tiny response now. The tremble in his pinned wrists, his raspy, uneven breathing, the nervous flicking of his eyes over that downright smug expression.

(But how could he not shake in such a deliciously lethal grip, those terrible _glorious_ claws wrapped around his wrists, perfectly capable of crushing steel and snapping bone? When the chase had stolen his breath just as much as the hips slotted between his legs?)

He was thinly aware he was being maneuvered, but it was the jolt of ripping fabric that brought him down to earth again. Sparing a glance between their chests, he weakly warbled as he watched claws glide and tear effortlessly into already ruined clothing, until there was nothing to hide to hide him. The tattered remains of his pants would have looked more pathetic if he wasn't so damn aroused. 

Aroused. When had that happened? Somewhere between being chased and staring down his inevitable doom as it closed in, he decided. Had he felt that familiar warmth as he sprinted through the woods, or when his legs had been slightly parted, leaning back as his hunter came to collect his catch? It hardly seemed to matter _when_ he could barely think outside of _now_ , panting and helplessly splayed out over aging stone. Like a sacrifice. Ed swallowed the keen back down at that thought. He dwelled on past terminologies too much.

The steady buzzing of his scatterbrained thinking must have drowned out Greed's comment, because suddenly he was grinding down on him, eliciting a startled moan to wrench itself from his throat before he could think to stop it. It was only once, enough to catch his attention, but once was all that was needed to send his already barely organized thoughts into fuzzy disarray. He'd already forgotten what distracted him in the first place.

It took substantial effort to focus on his captor's face. Otherworldly eyes looked back at him, and even in this state it was easy to spot the triumph and satisfaction- among the libidinous intent. A pleasant but unsurprising discovery. Ed's eyes drifted to that oh so dangerous maw, and it must've been something on his face that gave it away as Greed's grin twisted further—he cried out again as those teeth were at his neck, instinctively lolling his head to the side. Trying to press them harder into his willing flesh. To feel the skin break and leave him marked. A whimper bubbled up with the clenching of Greed's jaw, the first of many more gasps and 'oh's to tumble past his lips as Greed's hips rolled against him. The struggling of his legs was entirely useless, except that he could weakly arch up into those _heavenly_ touches between thrashing. Defiance only earned him another deep growl—impossible to ignore with his mouth wrapped around Ed's throat—and harsh ruts against him. It might've been considered a punishment if it wasn't exactly what his hormone riddled brain wanted.

Under normal circumstances, it was strange for Ed not to be aware of himself. Normally he was great at burying his wants below scathing sarcasm. This of course, didn't apply here, where it was only just now that he realized the shaky noises coming from him in a stream, were not in fact unintelligible babble, nor were they sarcastic. There were _pleas_ being whimpered to the night air, and anyone else would have been stunned at the atypically free begging. Well, maybe it wasn't entirely free; the ceaseless rutting was why he was vocal at all, and who wouldn't be? He wasn't a statue while being bedded, though perhaps being embarrassingly loud wasn't anything to brag about. His excuses fell short when the delicious touching very suddenly stopped, and he whined much louder than he had before. Whatever, totally was a fluke.

Greed's firm bite was still holding him in place, so it wasn't like Ed could just crane his neck and see what the hold up was. But through the haze of rising pleasure, his breath stuttered at the sound of shifting fabric. The whole clearing seemed to ring with it, and another faint moan escaped him with the brush of something unmistakable against his inner thigh. More heat twisted through his body, now quivering at silent promises. Silent **_threats_** , and he wasn't sure why that correction sent another thrill through his being.

The bear trap mouth slowly loosened, scraping against his fluttering throat as Greed slowly drew back. If Ed had seen lust before this, now there only _was_ lust, laced into every part of those lazy eyes. Lustful appraising, like he was examining a work of art or delicate jewelry behind a display case. Or maybe Ed was mistaking feral hunger for something poetic, as if he'd know the difference while he had an erection. He couldn't cobble himself together with those eyes on him, his protests stuck to the back of his tongue. Greed smiled— _smirked_ —as he leaned closer, his breath ghosting over Ed's ear.

"Beg." The first word spoken to him and it was an order. He would've bitched if it hadn't sent another hot pulse straight down to his dick. Miraculously, it seemed as though Greed had given him his tongue back, because now his pleading came pouring out in a rush of heady desperation, high pitched and as shaky as his thighs. He wasn't even sure if he sounded coherent, but he couldn't stop rambling about just how much he _needed him, god, Greed please_ —

And all at once, the English lexicon left him again, fleeing with his last braincell as _finally_ he felt the burn of being slowly, purposefully filled. A high pitched whine filtered between his grit teeth, pitching higher and higher until he felt their hips meet with the lightest bump. He would have laughed at how out of place the gentle brush had been if his chest wasn't seizing up like the rest of his taut frame. The wet dribble of pre shining on his abdomen was prideless, but _fuck_ who could give a shit about things like dignity or pride with fucking fantastic cock shoved as far as it could go? Christ, if he didn't know any better, he'd say he could feel it up to his lungs, but that just sounded like a terribly porny concept to be thinking in the middle of this. Greed's teeth were back at his neck, dragging them across his hammering pulse with a languid note. Ed only had enough energy to sluggishly nuzzle the side of his head, earning him a throaty chuckle. Another whine bubbled up from his chest, protesting the slow drag of the other pulling out; hadn't he begged good enough?- The rough slam scattered his thoughts once more, his cries echoing around the woods as he was brutally fucked into the ground. Ed threw his legs around Greed, thighs locked around him to hold on for the ride. His legs could barely even find each other, and the feeling of being dwarfed beneath Greed should have made him bristle instead of leak. He had no air to keep up his sobbing pleas, mewls punched from him with every blissful thrust. Greed didn't seem to mind, so Ed didn't either. There was no reprieve from the primal snarls or snap of hips, no way to escape the ravenous homunculus and Ed was dimly aware that the thought of running had checked out a long time ago. He couldn't think of a better fate than falling apart underneath such a tantalizing predator.

Thinking clearly sounded like a luxury with how frayed his thoughts were. Anything outside of this clearing sounded like wasted energy, the focal point of his attention stretched thinly across every burning sensation setting his veins on fire. He was so _hot_ , blond hair sticking to his shoulders and forehead like he'd been caught in the rain instead of Greed's unyielding grasp. He was a fucking mess and he just couldn't give a shit so long as he _didn't stop touching him_. He felt like he was soaring and drowning all at once, canting his hips for Greed's benefit and the perfect angle. It was a wordless gratitude, or maybe he hadn't noticed, but getting a 'oh thank you, how considerate of you' was so low on the list of Ed's priorities, it could have reached the bottom of a lake.

The steady mounting of his euphoria kept taking him to greater heights, but it was just shy of that glorious crescendo they were chasing. It clicked for him that everything- the chase, the lunge, the pinning, all of it- had lead up to this, all the same foreplay and all the same shared hunger. He bucked his hips up into the pounding, grinding his cock up against Greed's stomach with such feverish intent, he felt practically possessed. Dark promises were being groaned into his ear, "you just have to cum for me, Eddie," and he was so _willing_ for him, practically weeping his name even as his gasps were robbed of air—

Edward blearily squinted against the assaulting sunlight proudly burning his eyes out. His bed was warm but glaringly empty save for his coat, draped at the foot of it. The realization he'd woken up, alone, from an incomplete dream irritated him more than the fact he'd forgotten to draw the curtains on his way to bed. He dragged the covers over his face with a frustrated groan, quietly fuming in his unresolved tension. It just had to be right when he was gonna finish, and now he was stuck with nearly painful morning wood and sticky briefs clinging to him like cheap glue. Even the twittering birds outside sounded mocking. He rolled away from the window and tossed the covers aside, savoring the cooler air settling on electrified nerves. He could swear up and down that those carbon coated fingers were still wrapped tightly around his wrists, and it only served to fuel a throb of need in more places than just his abdomen.

Ed let his annoyed huff bounce off his bedroom walls, crudely shimmying his underwear off his legs. He'd have to discuss another trip to Xing, preferably soon, but that could be worried about after he finished what his horny subconscious had started. His blunt fingernails were a poor replacement for what he wished was marking his skin. Ed drew angry red lines down one thigh as he worked his high back up, and it was the thought of those claws hoisting his legs onto broad shoulders that made his moan of relief sound so raw and foreign to his ears. He couldn't remember the last time he sounded so desperate on his own.

He sorely needed to get away from work for a while, and Xing sounded like the perfect candidate for his.. ulterior motives.

**Author's Note:**

> i might actually fill this tag with more of my nonsense because its a crying shame that its a lil dusty. will it be smut or soft things? ill get back to you on that one but there will be Something


End file.
